


the return

by cassiopia



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, season 4 speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-08-07
Packaged: 2018-04-13 11:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4520073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiopia/pseuds/cassiopia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver and Felicity are back in Starling City, but coming back to the vigilante business is a little more difficult, and not everything was resolved before they left. A conversation and the chance to move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the return

**Author's Note:**

> So, I came up with this in the shower and wrote it in a couple of hours and it hasn’t been edited but hey, here it goes. The first time I’ve actually posted arrow fic!
> 
> This is what I’m kind of hoping will happen in season 4 because a) Oliver needs to choose to do this and b) the arguments are getting on my nerves. Not a good team dynamic.

Oliver stood in the centre of the new base, facing the glass cases that lined the back wall. Three of them displayed leather jackets and pants, weapons, tech, masks and helmets in their places. Two were bare, waiting for something. It was empty, except for him, abandoned while Starling’s protectors went about the lives they lived during daylight hours. That didn’t mean it wasn’t being watched.

He turned slowly at the sound of feet on the stairs and smiled. Laurel stood with her arms crossed over her chest, watching him like she wasn’t sure if she should be amused or exasperated. “I can’t tell if you’ve got really good at predicting us or we’ve just got really bad at telling when we’re being followed.” She said dryly.

He laughed easily. “More like Felicity’s really good at keeping tabs on people. We wanted to be sure you guys were okay, since you were determined not to ask for help.” She looked good, tired but comfortable, none of the fragile tension that made her look like so breakable, the first few months after they had lost Sara. Of course, she had never really been that breakable.

Laurel rolled her eyes at him but she wasn’t mad. They had probably guessed they had been doing it. Dig certainly had. “Between Diggle and you and Felicity offering your advice unasked-for whenever you got too bored out in the middle of nowhere, we didn’t need to.”

He bowed his head, admitting defeat with a smile. “No you didn’t, but that had nothing to do with me or Felicity.” She smiled, just an edge of vindication in it and he felt some of the unspoken tension in the room dissipate. This wasn’t going to be like the last time he had come back to find everything had changed, he promised her silently. He could deal with changes for the better, even if they didn’t involve him. This was bigger than him or his personal mission and that was a good thing; it had taken on a life of its own

He turned back to the cases and felt her do the same, coming to stand by him, a steady presence on his left. “Two of them are empty.” He said, letting the question hang unasked.

“Well we figured after Nanda Parbat we owed Barry at least that.” She remarked, a tinge of bitterness. The Canary’s suit hung on one of the three mannequins, gleaming black leather and the wig he had never understood.

He took a deep breath. He had said that he was going to make amends. Better start now. “I’m sorry about that. About everything really. That whole mess, not just after I went to the League, but before that, with Malcolm.” He paused, deliberating, then went on. Full honesty. “I did what I thought I had to do. I had to make hard decisions, I made compromises and people got hurt. You were one of them.” He took a deep breath but she shook her head, cutting him off.

“Don’t, Ollie. If you keep apologising, I’ll have to start and I’m really not in the mood.” She rubbed her temples. “Yes, you made shitty decisions and I’m still pissed and I’m still going to bring Sara’s killer to justice. But it’s not my drive anymore, not the only thing keeping me out of the bottle. I can try and understand, maybe. I think she would have wanted that.” She looked him in the eye in silnet acknowledgement.

“Okay.” He said, reaching out to grab her hand, just for a second, squeezing it in a silent show of thanks.

She waited a moment, then pulled away. “I meant what I said. We’ve been fine.” She told him insistently.

“I know that.”

“If you know that, why are you here?” She crossed her arms over her chest and raised one eyebrow.

“I figured you could always use the help. I know these streets. They’re never quiet and nothing is ever enough. There’s always work to be done.” He shrugged carelessly, false casual like it had never been in doubt that he would jump right back in.  

“We could use it. But we don’t need you, not if it’s going to-.” She hesitated.

“Going to what?” He said quietly.

She sighed, exasperated. “No matter how bored you got, you’ve been happier these last few months than I’ve ever seen you. I don’t want you to lose that. Ollie, I saw what this did to you.” She said his old nickname like a reminder. She’d called him that for so long. She had picked it up from Tommy, he remembered. “Why do you even want to do this?”

“I said once that I had made the decision to start this, to become the Arrow, and that I didn’t get to unmake that decision. The truth is, I didn’t know any other way to live then. I do now. But I’m choosing this anyway. I can make a difference so I… I should.” He thought that she of all people would understand that. She had been raised to it, had been set on it while he had still been dropping out of colleges and getting drunk in frathouses.

“I think you’ve paid your dues. You and Felicity both.” She told him.

“It isn’t- It isn’t like that. I don’t want this to be about guilt anymore.” He tried to put it into words, the itch under his skin, underneath everything else. How it felt to be out on the streets, throwing himself forwards into a fight nobody could ever hope to win. He couldn’t, in the end. “What else could we do?” He offered instead. “Neither of us would ever be happy with a house in the suburbs, 2.5 kids, office jobs, the whole rigmarole. Not now, not when we know that we can do more, be more. We owe it to ourselves.” Maybe it was a selfish reason but it was true.

“We may have to get your suit out of storage.”

He grinned at her. “I was actually thinking that it was time for a change.”

“Luckily I know a guy.” She answered, grabbing his phone from his coat and typing. “I’ve got to get to court,’ she said, handing it back. “I’ll see you soon.”

He leaned back against the table to watch her rush up the stairs. “Dinah Laurel Lance, off to save the world.” He called, the old joke that had followed every new cause, every explosion of righteous anger, every time she had begged off spending time with them to study, to go to lectures and seminars and exams.

She stopped on the stairs to counter with a smirk. “Well, at least I’m not the only one.” Her voice floated down from the open door. “Welcome home.”

Home. The familiar Starling skyline, like childhood as they passed the city limits, alleys and rooftops he knew as well as his own scars or Felicity’s smile. Waking up next to her, breakfast in the penthouse, the two of them and Thea, still bugging him because they are ‘way too loud, seriously, you’re moving out or you’re paying for my therapy, I did not need to hear that.’ Nights here, a purpose and a cause and people who shared it, who had his back. His bow in his hand and the surety of knowing where an arrow would hit before the moment of release.

Home.


End file.
